ShikaChov
by lilpreciousone
Summary: This is a haven for my ShikaCho oneshots/drabbles. The ratings vary by chapter/story, but most will be T. (will always be posted as complete even as I add them) (this is for you! you know who you are TwT)


Three times out of ten he would feel the inexplicable urge to forget he wasn't masochistic. Statistically his restraint was above average. Yes, statistically his laid back, relaxed composure was easy going and sufficient enough for his daily associations.

Now if only Choji didn't take special care to lick all his fingers after polishing off a helping of his favored snack food like a savored ritual. If only Choji averaged about ten bags of chips a week! Heck, he'd settle for the Akimichi simply turning away while going about the deed. Three times out of ten would seem perfectly reasonable then. But the snacks kept coming, and as they vanished a delicate pink bit of tongue would emerge past joyously curved lips to lap effectively at thick, belying fingers. One by one, slowly, but unerringly, each caked digit was routinely wetted and the flavored speckled dust thoroughly enjoyed just as much as the actual snack had been.

Shikamaru wouldn't put it past his friend to relish even more in this simple act than he did in crunching down on the last bite. Choji enjoyed every, and all, of the little things life freely offered. It took little to please him. And the Nara didn't particularly mind. Except when his seventh streak of vigilant control was up and he was borrowing on dwindling reserves, wheezing on meager fumes of respectable reasoning's.

It would start with subtle rustling and a crisp pop, followed by a sudden waft of barbeque. Shikamaru's right eyelid would start twitching on the spot, almost unnoticeable if his nose weren't wrinkled up, twisting his face into a look of dreaded inevitability. As the noisy munching and melodic humming of an occupied Choji commenced the young jounin's pale ears would color hotly, his throat trying hard to work through its uncomfortable dryness.

He'd done the math many shameful times. He already (always) knew there was no point to it. But he never stopped his brilliance from running through the calculations before he could help himself. Depending on the size of Choji's hunger, each correspondingly sized bag had a set weight of how many ounces of snack rested within. And as the Akimichi clan were set on their high standards of quality brands, most of the chips inside would be relatively whole, giving Shikamaru an almost precise count of how many slices there were per bag.

And he would count.

Count the number down like a convicted at his public sentencing, for when the span of chips was through so was Shikamaru.

He knew his problem was that he was always dozens of steps ahead of the game, thinking of, filing, and imagining every possible outcome. When Choji opened a new bag Shikamaru was already watching him take his last pleasure from the very ordinary function of eating. He'd discovered that his imagination was quite vivid, tricky, and prone to exaggeration. His body temperature would raise rapidly until his anticipation addled brain would drop everything else from its meticulous multitasking and become hooked on an unbelievably one-tracked mindedness. He'd burn up, hopeless, waiting for his friend to finish.

Sometimes Choji would break to make small talk or laugh at comments made in a conversation his friend had no inclination to pay attention to while he was so engrossed on a more pivotal matter (person) at hand. In those moments Shikamaru was unconscious of his suddenly charitable patience.

Sometimes there would be a surprise chip, that impy extra. Shikamaru was never sure whether these made him deliriously relieved or maddeningly frustrated. He just knew that, no matter how short-lived, they were a stay of execution, and the extra seconds he was given made no difference, it always came.

The chips would run out, the empty bag disposed of, and Choji's hands left a barbeque candied obstacle. A problem Choji fixed ten times out of ten. That tongue almost out and sweep across excited lips in preparation for what was to come.

He mostly turned away before it came to this point. No one made fleeing look so dignified as Shikamaru. When he was a safe distance out of the woods he'd pat himself on the back and feel smug about his immunity. Most times he managed not to make a fool of himself...

Except those few times he couldn't care enough to save himself. These moments his heart would have its piece, beating too passionately and loudly for his brain to get a word in edgewise. His feet rooted to the spot, facing him towards temptation incarnate and making the decision for the young fool.

And he would allow himself to be tortured as Choji licked and lapped and licked at his mess, humming sweetly all the while. Shikamaru's senses couldn't take his friend all in wholly or fast enough, tripping over each other in their rush to experience this facet of Choji. And Shikamaru as the world knows him was gone away, his cheeks flaming brighter than a forge, he wits spilled out his ears on the ground with his pride. Then he could only pray passersby wouldn't stop to question the unfiltered squeaks of one Shikamaru overcome with utter adoration.

It was precisely because of that fear that he tried so hard to avoid this; the thought that some nosey busybody would get a brief glimpse and read something into the Nara's reaction that was far from the truth. That they might construe something negative or perverted in Shika's trembling knees and wringing hands.

The fact was that it wasn't... and if it was, it certainly wasn't any of their damn buisness!

They'd been the best of friends for so long, considering their age, and he couldn't remember how it used to be without the kind Akimichi. His mind, however, would never let him forget the day Choji's snacking had forever changed the aspect in which Shika viewed his friend...

* * *

It was a fairly ordinary afternoon and Choji was eating chips under a blue sky, an occasional cloud passing overhead, in the central marketplace. Shikamaru had just purchased a rather ordinary brown basket. As he turned to walk back towards where his friend was waiting for him in the street he noticed the finger licking and stopped to stare, one brow raised at the sight. He knew he's seen Choji do it before, but he'd never thought twice about it before.

So he asked, "What Are you doing, Cho?"

Smiling brightly Choji replied, "Cleaning the chip dust off my hands."

The Nara frowned, "Yeah, but your doing it weird. Why not just suck it off?" He demonstrated by inserting a finger into his mouth, quickly removing metaphorical chip essence and popping the digit out before doing the same with the others in rapid succession, "What you're doing looks odd and takes longer."

Choji's lips only spread wider, his soft expression knowing, "Ah, but that's bad manners, Shikamaru. Besides, the sound it makes is kinda vulgar and," he spread his hands, gesturing to the hoard of people around him, "quite rude. My way is less likely to offend anyone."

Shikamaru shouldn't be shocked, but what else could this feeling be? Of course Choji would be thinking of others, even in this insignificant of a thing. Of course he would because the guy was just that good. Choji was good. Choji was kind, gentle and considerate, but Shikamaru has always ever been aware of that. So what was with this reeling in Shika's soul?

Choji laughed at the odd face the stunned Nara was making, then taking him by the hand lead him away from the wicker vendor. And like a lost puppy he followed, wondering at this small shift in his psyche while Choji held his hand so tight.

* * *

...Now as he watched his friend barely dabb his tongue at his task considerately, he thought he'd figured it out. The reason why he was three times weak.

Five minutes too soon Choji's hands were finally spotless. Choji then made a show of patting his gurgling roundness and sighing with contentment. His eyes closed in memory of the tasty treat, a silly smile on his flushed lips. When his brown beauties reopened again they immediately searched out Shikamaru's, and upon finding them asked with concern, "Shikamaru? Is there something on my face again?"

No, there wasn't.

"Yes," he said anyway. "The handsome guy wearing it."

And it was his childhood friend's turn to blink and stutter, face flushed an endearing rose. Choji was just too cute.

Shikamaru is a sucker for cute.


End file.
